


Tea and Tears

by routa



Series: Yurileth Week 2020 by routa [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Other, Pre-Relationship, Yurileth Week (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24324898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/routa/pseuds/routa
Summary: After their father's death, Byleth is left lost and confused. There might be solace and comfort found in a cup of tea and some friendly words, however.Written for Yurileth Week, for the prompt Tea Time. Byleth's gender up to interpretation.
Relationships: Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc & My Unit | Byleth, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth
Series: Yurileth Week 2020 by routa [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753765
Kudos: 45





	Tea and Tears

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I had one more in me... or more like I had started writing this earlier and then decided to tweak it a bit so it fit a Yurileth week -prompt.

Sometimes, even the least rooted of people become legends. In fact, the mystery surrounding wanderers is often just what sets the people’s imagination running wild, so it was perhaps no wonder that unexpectedly skilled or sought-after mercenaries could become legends. People such as the Blade Breaker, known as the finest fighter on the continent, and their child, the Ashen Demon, who cut down their enemies without a hint of emotion on their face.

Bandits were either afraid of them or took them as a challenge – and then barged into battles they never returned from. Some doubted they were even real, and if they did run into them, they were quickly proven wrong, and the rumours were proven correct.

Or as correct as rumours could ever be.

The Ashen Demon, who disliked being called that and was much rather called just Byleth Eisner, had never been delusional enough to think that their father was invincible. At least not since they had stopped being a child and entered the life of a sellsword. They knew their father was strong, skilled, and had the smarts and personality to keep a band of mercenaries together through anything. But they also knew that Jeralt Eisner was, when it came down to it, human. And humans died. That was a simple fact that no number of stories could change.

Those stories had never felt less true than now, when Jeralt lay buried in a grave with his late wife. When the truth about their father’s humanity came crashing down, and Byleth realised just how little they had truly _understood_ the implications of mortality. Their father had been taken down by a stab in the back. A single knife had ended the life of the legendary Blade Breaker. And Byleth, who had always thought they had developed a rather realistic view of the occupational hazards of a mercenary, was unable to believe it. It turned out that they had never _seriously_ thought about their father dying, because it would have hurt too much. And now it had happened and there was no running from it. No time to let it sink in. There was only grief.

It had taken a week before Byleth had even managed to properly come out of their room. A week of worried students and other faculty members trying to coax them out, to talk to them, to offer support. Byleth had only managed to trudge to Father’s room to retrieve his diary and the wedding ring he had once given to Byleth’s mother, and then gone back to their room. They had mostly just cried, or stared at the walls and the ceiling, worried knocks and calls blurring into meaningless noise in their ears. When they had finally emerged into the mockingly cheerful sunlight, they had felt empty, and for the first time ever, it had truly frightened them.

They had always been empty. It was why they had cut their enemies down so easily. Why Father had been unnerved by them at first. Why they had become known as The Ashen Demon. They had sometimes wondered, tried to figure out why the emotions other humans so easily displayed were so foreign to them, but they hadn’t really been too worried about it. They knew that they _did_ feel things. Father also knew, and with time, Father had learned to read them well enough to interpret their non-reactions to the other mercenaries in their company as well.

It wasn’t that they didn’t feel, it was that they felt things very detachedly. Feelings floated, lighter than air, difficult to grasp, but at the same time, something had smothered them and they just didn’t want to come out. Smiles felt alien on Byleth’s face, and they had never laughed, not until they had started teaching and become more comfortable with their students. And they hadn’t cried, not until Father had lain in Byleth’s arms, bleeding to death. Tears had felt odd, burning on Byleth’s face, but they hadn’t noticed back then, because Father was far more important. Because a world shattering made everything feel like nothing. Byleth had only truly noticed when they had cried more later in their room, with only the voice of a girl who lived in their mind as their company.

Byleth had found that they disliked crying, and yet, it was better than feeling empty. Better than standing in the sunlight and realising just how scary being empty was, because now that the dam was broken, the void could be filled at any moment. With sadness, hate, vengeance. It _hurt_ when the emotions crashed down, still far away from reach and incomprehensible, but so much more there. Crushing. Too real. And at the same time, now that they knew what it was like to feel, they didn’t want to lose that again.

If only feeling would make sense. Maybe then, this grief would be easier to handle as well. Maybe.

They breathed in, felt their lungs expand, and almost choked on the realisation that Father was gone and would never come back again. They had realised that too many times, several times a day for the entire week now. They expected more tears, but the emptiness remained, heavy and haunting. Maybe it was heavy because there _was_ something on top of it. Feelings, but ones they couldn’t name yet.

Byleth knew there was sorrow and guilt, or at least there should be. Sorrow for a life that had deserved a better end. For never seeing their Father’s smile again. For never again fighting by his side nor listening to him make his friends laugh in an after-battle drinking session. Guilt, for not being able to stop the killer. For not dying in their father’s place. For never being able to express how much they loved him.

The emptiness somehow constricted, curled into a ball of something that threatened to shatter the world again. They had to get moving so that the world would still remain.

In the week following their return from their room, Byleth had been able to talk to people at least enough to make them less worried. They were all saddened by Jeralt’s death, and all had words of comfort and condolences to give. It was… humbling, to realise how much they cared. It was also overwhelming, and maybe that was why Byleth sought out the tunnels beneath Garreg Mach when everything became too much. There were far less interested people in Abyss than on the surface and far more hiding places. And the sunlight didn’t reach it, so at least it wasn’t mocking them there.

Byleth ended up staring at murky sewer waters in one of the empty tunnels for who knows how long. They ignored the voice in their head gently asking them if they were alright. Sothis was helpful and seemed to truly care about them, but at the moment they didn’t have the strength to truly answer back in more than a few monotone thoughts. The emptiness had turned into tar in their chest, and their still heart sat somewhere in the middle of it like a cold stone. Their father had written in their diary about how Byleth’s heart had always been still. How were they even alive? How were _they_ alive when their father was gone? _Why_ were-?

“Friend?”

Their thoughts had been going somewhere unpleasant, somewhere they couldn’t really put into words, but now they were brought to a halt by a voice they recognised. The voice usually had more bite, but it was now almost impossibly soft. Byleth turned reluctantly, not sure if they wanted company or not, and saw the closest thing Abyss had to a lord. Yuri stood a respectful distance away, as far as the winding, narrow passage allowed without putting him out of sight, his stance reserved but shoulders relaxed. He looked, as usual, far too well put together and elegant to belong in a sewer, but there was a worried frown on his beautiful face.

“A couple of Abyssians told me they saw you here, and that you looked like a walking corpse,” Yuri said, taking a couple of slow steps closer, as if wary that Byleth might bolt if he moved too fast, “How’re you feeling?”

Byleth shook their head, knowing it was an inadequate answer. Yuri, to their surprise, didn’t seem to mind.

“I get it,” he said, “You don’t have to tell me. What happened, it’s… a lot.”

It was strange, hearing Yuri sound so uncertain. Usually he seemed to have the words for any situation, or at the very least something witty to say if all else failed. But maybe it was different in a situation that was less about making an impression or manipulating someone. That made Byleth somewhat more comfortable, because it most likely meant that Yuri was being genuine, not hiding anything behind his impish smiles or clever words. As much as Byleth didn’t mind Yuri’s wit, at the moment they wouldn’t have had the energy for it.

Yuri reached them, stopped to stand next to them at the water’s edge. Byleth still didn’t know what to say.

“Jeralt raised you, yeah?” Yuri asked, “He was all you had. Losing a parent always leaves a mark.”

He said it like he had seen a lot of losses like that. And he probably had. Abyss was home to many orphans, and Yuri seemed to watch over them all. Maybe he had had many conversations like this. Yuri sighed, painted eyelids fluttering closed for a moment, as if he was searching for something within. Or maybe Byleth was, and Yuri was just waiting. They didn’t know at this point.

“You can feel whatever it is you need to feel right now,” Yuri said, “No matter how that looks.”

“I don’t know what to feel,” Byleth managed in a lost, broken voice.

“Yeah. I get it.”

“No,” Byleth took a deep breath, not sure why they were still talking, “I have never… I don’t…”

There were no words. Or maybe there were, but Byleth couldn’t find them.

“You don’t know a lot about feelings in general?”

Byleth looked up at Yuri. Surprised. How had he known? He was perceptive, certainly, but…

“It doesn’t take a genius to realise that,” Yuri said, “Even though you can be tricky to read sometimes. But about this? Not after what you were trying to say, or knowing your usual… neutrality. And definitely not after all the times you’ve looked all confusedly happy when you’ve seen someone smile.”

Byleth stared at the waters again.

“Still, I don’t pretend to understand exactly what you’re going through,” Yuri went on, “But I’m here, if you want to talk. Do you?”

Maybe? Now that the floodgates had cracked open, Byleth realised that they did want to talk more. To perhaps understand, and to convey the emptiness to someone other than Sothis, who understood, but who was still in their mind and didn’t quite feel enough like a separate person to count when it came to sharing things.

But still… Yuri, of all people? Sure, Byleth and Yuri had dealt with an incident with Yuri’s old gang member and a rival gang, and Yuri had started to spend a little more time with Byleth after that. And Byleth knew that despite his roguish ways, Yuri was truly a caring person. And perhaps he indeed had had many talks like this, with others who had lost parents. That made it all feel somehow safer, like there might be answers to be found somewhere in his words and kind voice.

“I… maybe I do,” Byleth found themselves saying.

“Right now? Or later?”

“Now… I think.”

“You want to sit down for that? Maybe have a drink? Sometimes that helps. You like tea, right?”

Did they? Byleth shrugged. Yuri took that as a yes.

“Okay,” he said, “let’s get you somewhere that smells less like a sewer yeah?”

He was still so gentle it almost hurt. Byleth wasn’t sure if they had ever been treated so gently or amicably before. Yes, Jeralt had been caring in his own way, but everyone else had usually seen them as just the Ashen Demon. As a mercenary, most of the encounters in Byleth’s life had been violent. And while the Officers Academy had changed things, most here treated Byleth with a strange sort of awe that made them a bit unnerved and more than a little confused. But here was Yuri, who had never seemed to be in awe of anything, and who mostly treated Byleth with a friendly attitude that barely masked a distrust that was at the same time saddening and almost a relief compared to the fawning Byleth usually got from their students. It at least made them feel more like equals, and that too was usually comforting.

Byleth had noticed these things in their analytical and the newfound, tentatively _feeling_ way, but now everything – including the fragile, pragmatic understanding they had with Yuri – felt too complicated. And despite that, when Yuri started walking, Byleth followed.

Yuri led Byleth to the now empty classroom of the Ashen Wolves, where he proceeded to rummage through some boxes that lined the walls and pull out a couple of dusty teacups, a bag of minty tea leaves and a bottle of something that smelled like medicine and fruit. Byleth raised a brow at the bottle, and Yuri chuckled.

“Come on, don’t be so surprised. Balthus spends time in this room. He won’t mind if I take some of his stash. He owes me about an entire pub’s worth of drinks anyway.”

He poured water into a battered teapot and set it on a small stone slab that lay on one of the boxes. Then he hesitated for a moment and asked:

“Would you mind…?” he gestured vaguely at the pot, and it took Byleth a long moment to realise what he meant. Byleth waved a hand and watched fire magic spark underneath the pot. Flames danced around it like they probably danced somewhere in their blood. The water heated up much quicker than with a normal fire. Yuri waited until the flames simmered down, flashed a smile that was more polite than usual, and then poured tea into two cups. Byleth watched with some interest as Yuri added in a bit of the medicine-fruit-spirits and set one cup on a desk in front of Byleth. When Byleth didn’t move, Yuri took a sip of his own tea and then sat down on a vacant box near an empty chalkboard, still being almost overly respectful of Byleth’s personal space. Byleth moved like tar, because that was what their insides felt like underneath the emptiness. They sunk onto the desk next to their cup, slowly picked the cup up and sipped it before they had time to think too much more. The liquid went down fast and was pleasantly sweet and burning at the same time. It sloshed uncomfortably in their tar-insides, and Byleth felt almost sad about the knowledge that they had always been unnaturally tolerant to alcohol. It would take a lot to even get them to feel the small waves of numbness that would be both welcome and frightening right now. They were already too numb, but at least the alcohol-induced variety would be easier to deal with.

They sat in silence, and Byleth wasn’t sure if Yuri was waiting for them to start talking. They hoped he wasn’t. Byleth still didn’t know what to say. Everything had started to feel like a bad idea. The drinks, Abyss, Yuri, even going out of their room. Byleth managed to chase those regrets for a tiny, blissful moment before they were again crushed under the reminder that Father was gone. Byleth drew in a sharp breath, holding in tears, and then another, and another until they felt like they couldn’t breathe right at all. Did it matter? If their heart didn’t even beat, what good was breathing?

“Friend?”

Byleth blinked, and the classroom swam back into focus. When had it become so blurry? Were they crying again? Yuri had slid down from his box and leaned to the desk Byleth was sitting on, still not too close but close enough that Byleth could sense him being there. It was oddly grounding.

“Come on, _breathe_ ,” Yuri said in an even but oddly commanding tone, “Can you do that? Breathe in deep again.”

Byleth breathed, and the first time it hurt as if there was something sharp in their chest. But the next ones were easier, and Byleth realised with slowly dripping confusion that they had probably been somewhere entirely else for a moment. Perhaps wherever Sothis was. She was respectfully quiet. Byleth wasn’t sure if they missed her right now or not.

“You got lost for a moment there,” Yuri said, “If it’s too much, then you don’t have to say anything. You don’t even have to be here if you don’t want to.”

“I just…” Byleth croaked and took a sip of their tea again before clacking the cup down so hard that the sound hurt their ears, “I don’t know what to do now.”

“About what?”

“…anything.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

He said it so easily. Like it was perfectly understandable that Byleth would be so utterly lost. It didn’t feel understandable to Byleth at all. The only thing Byleth could say for sure was that they mourned their father. And that they hated the woman who had killed their father, and it was burning somewhere in their being in a way nothing had before. They wanted her gone, so that she would pay for what she had done and so that she wouldn’t do it again. But aside from that…

“I’m feeling a lot of things,” Byleth managed to say, and felt almost embarrassed about how useless they were at this.

“Yeah,” Yuri spun his own cup between his hands, smiling sadly, “You know, for what it’s worth. I think that people could have a whole damn research career on emotions and they _still_ wouldn’t be able to properly make sense of grief. Especially when it hits them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

The silence that fell between them felt uncomfortable, too much like the void in Byleth’s chest.

“I know you will get through this,” Yuri said, and it shocked Byleth to hear him sound so sure of it. How could he know when Byleth themselves had no idea how to proceed? Yuri smiled again. It was a surprisingly easy one, and it reached his eyes. Byleth wasn’t sure if they had ever seen Yuri’s smiles do that before, “You have that kind of inner fire that will get you through anything.”

He sat on the desk next to Byleth, still keeping space between them. He set his almost full cup down and leaned his chin to his hands in a way that made him look like a work of art. Byleth wasn’t sure where that thought had come from and they definitely didn’t have the emotional capacity to unpack that right now, so they chose to ignore it.

“Still,” Yuri said, “You don’t have to do any of this alone. We _both_ know there’s people lining up to help you. Because they care.”

Byleth nodded.

“That doesn’t mean you have to accept it yet, if it feels too much,” Yuri went on.

“I’m here now,” Byleth remarked.

“I know. And that maybe wasn’t the best idea.”

Was it? Byleth didn’t know.

“I’ll be here, if you want,” Yuri said, “But don’t force anything, yeah?”

Byleth shook their head.

“I… want to start with something,” they said.

“Okay. What’s the heaviest thing that’s on your mind right now?”

Byleth was going to say that they didn’t know. They were mourning and didn’t know how. Their heart didn’t beat, and they didn’t know emotions at all. There were so many things to pick from.

No, wait. No, there wasn’t.

Because when Byleth thought about it, one thought swam to the surface more than others.

“I never could tell…” Byleth had to take a break and breathe again, because words were like shattered glass, “I couldn’t tell my father that… I loved him. I couldn’t… because I didn't know how...”

They trailed off, the emptiness filling with ice cold something that they couldn’t name. Yuri was silent for a long while, just breathing evenly and… and _looking_ with eyes that had always been steely, but were now so very soft. Then Yuri said in slow, measured tones:

“I saw you and your father interact a bit. To be honest, neither of you seemed like the type to go for the big talks about emotions. That’s not really what mercenaries do a lot, right? Makes killing harder. But the way you had each other’s backs in Remire and in the chapel, it was obvious how much you trust each other.”

He sighed.

“I may not know much about your life, but even I can say with certainty that Jeralt knew that you loved him. And I’m sure he loved you too.”

It should have been comforting. And maybe it was. But for some reason it broke whatever shields Byleth had managed to hastily prop up while they had been crying into a pillow and listened to Sothis’s soothing whispers. The tears were back, and Byleth’s hand flew to their mouth to suppress sobs.

“Hey,” Yuri said quietly, “It’s okay. I told you; you can feel whatever you need to feel.”

In all honesty, Byleth was tired of crying. It was unpleasant and strange and sapped their energy, but it seemed that it didn’t matter how tired they were or how little they understood. Tears didn’t really care about _anything_ ; they just fell, and the tar in their insides seemed to climb up into their throat and drown them like Father’s blood had drowned him and _it was still too painful and strange to think about._

Yuri had shifted just a bit closer so that they sat nearly shoulder to shoulder, and had Byleth been more in control of themselves or aware of their surroundings, they would have seen Yuri hesitantly lift a hand towards their shoulder, stop for a moment and then lower the hand again, not sure if they were allowed to touch. He didn’t speak, and for a long moment there was only Byleth and tears.

They ended eventually. Everything ended eventually. Once Byleth had known that with the neutral acceptance of one who was generally unfazed by nearly everything. Now, Byleth wasn’t sure what to think about that. Byleth wiped their face, suddenly somewhat embarrassed. This was probably not the way people should see the invincible professor everyone seemed to love for some reason. Sobbing into a teacup in a basement wasn’t very dignified. But then again… did it really matter? Byleth was only human.

…right?

No, one thing at a time. There was no time to crack _that_ one open right now.

“Why am I still here?” they managed to ask even though their voice sounded so strange it almost made them jump, “When Jeralt…?”

They couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know it hurts right now,” Yuri said, “But I hope you don’t go too far down that particular path. So many people would miss you if you were gone.”

Yes. Perhaps. Byleth knew they would miss their students too. They would miss a lot about this new world they had found in Garreg Mach. And maybe about these new emotions too. Byleth closed their eyes. The hollowness was still there, but the tar had cleared. Maybe they had cried it out.

“I miss him,” Byleth said and was surprised they managed to say it without hesitation or tears, “I… so much…”

Yuri didn’t reply, but he did slowly reach out to hover a hand near Byleth’s shoulder again. There was a question in his eyes, and Byleth slowly managed to figure out what he wanted. They nodded, and Yuri gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The next silence between them wasn’t quite so heavy and hollow. There were still so many things to figure out. So many words to say and to leave unsaid. At that moment, Byleth didn’t know how to proceed. Maybe they didn’t need to. Not yet. Maybe right now it was enough to realise what little things they could, and to hear a few comforting words from – a friend? An ally? – someone who cared.

They weren’t okay. They wouldn’t be okay for a long while, perhaps. But maybe Yuri was right and Byleth _could_ get through this, no matter how lost they felt right now. A spark of something flickered in their chest. Maybe it was hope. Maybe something else. It would take some time to figure it out, and it didn’t burn for long until it faded into the background of grief. Still, it was something.

Byleth tasted their tea again. It was saltier than they remembered it being a few sips ago. Still, it was warm. Though maybe not as warm as Yuri’s hand was on their shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> So... not gonna lie, this has felt a bit tricky, because I almost never write anything romantic (and to be fair, most of these went pretty platonic and character studyish too) and I am the first to admit that I don't think I'm very good at writing romance. Or at least not very comfortable? Well, anyway, this has been a fun challenge, especially with the fact that this was super spur-of-the-moment and that meant I had to kinda rush these out. If I'd actually... you know, planned this, I would have probably stuffed in some overarching motif between the one-shots or something, but maybe this more drafty text is sometimes fun too?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, nonetheless.
> 
> If you want to talk to me, I appreciate comments. It doesn't even have to be about the fic; I like chatting about FE and other stuff in general!


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